


Those We Held Closest

by curacha



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M, for once, its real sad, proper capitalization, this is mostly for kwispy on twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curacha/pseuds/curacha
Summary: Right here, with Ling laying almost comfortably in a bed, with his husband by his side, he could almost pretend that his entire body wasn't simultaneously shaking from chills and sweating from a fever. He had, after all, been doing just that for the last few months prior.





	Those We Held Closest

When Edward finds Ling passed out on the floor of their shared bedroom in the palace, his mind begins racing, trying to remember the last time Ling ate. Although Ling hadn't had an episode of hypoglycemia in years, that was the first thought in Edward's mind, as there were practically no other reasons for Ling to be conked out on the floor, in an uncomfortable looking position, no less. 

 

Edward finally remembers that Ling had eaten this morning, but he had just a few steamed buns, which was very uncharacteristic of Ling. Snapping out of his thoughts, he carefully walked over to the sleeping figure, nudging him with his right foot a few times. 

 

"Hey. Ling. You awake?" After no answer Edward bends down to brush the fringe out of Ling's eyes. His face, even as he sleeps, is contorted with pain. 

 

"Hey. Get up, you lousy emperor!" Ed calls out louder, the insult only slipping past his lips because he has begun to worry. Kneeling down, he props Ling's head and shoulders onto his lap, shaking him gently in hopes to get some sort of response. 

 

Ling is scarily silent, beads of perspiration rolling down the sides of his face, despite him not doing anything besides laying on the floor. After another few seconds of shaking with no response from the other party, Edward's mind goes full panicked mode, and he gently sets Ling down on the ground again before bolting up to lean out the doorway, yelling for a medic in Amestrian, too panicked to translate the words. A few nearby maids seemed to understand though, quickly conversing in Xingese before one went sprinting down the halls, the other two barging through the doorway to see the emperor themselves. 

 

They crowd around the young lord, and at that point, Edward is too panicked to think of anything else, most certainly not memories from his childhood that are eerily familiar. 

 

+

 

"You idiot! You mean this whole time, you haven't had the philosopher's stone infused in you?"

 

Ling sat in a cot in the infirmary, propped up into a sitting position by a few fancy pillows brought from the bedroom. A rag that had been dipped in cool water was placed on his forehead, to alleviate the fever. The medic was off to the side, on the phone and speaking rapid Xingese. Edward only caught a few words, like "doctor," "emperor," and the phrase "six weeks."

 

"I wanted to grow old with you," Ling spoke softly, an anguished smile on his lips. "Infusing the stone with myself would have halted my aging. I couldn't bear the thought of you, or Lan Fan, or anyone else growing older without me. People without a king would be lost, but a king is no king without his people beside him." 

 

That was all it took to sap all the anger out of Edward. 

"I… You… God damn it all..." He swore, dropping to his knees and grabbing Ling's hand to intertwine with his own. He met Ling's gaze, desperation clear in his amber eyes. "Can't you just use it now? To infuse, or to heal yourself?"

 

"As I am now, I'm afraid my body is too weak to successfully combine with the philosopher's stone. I would certainly perish if we did that." Ed sucked in a breath, the idea of Ling dying suddenly very real now that it had been spoken aloud.

 

"And none of our doctors are familiar with the stone, and won't know how to heal me with it. We will just have to wait and see what happens, my love, alright?" Ling pleaded, squeezing Edward's hands tightly in his. He knew, for certain, that Edward would run himself ragged trying to find a cure, or anything to help Ling feel even a small fraction better, but Ling couldn't stand to see Edward do that to himself. 

 

Right here, with Ling laying almost comfortably in a bed, with his husband by his side, he could almost pretend that his entire body wasn't simultaneously shaking from chills and sweating from a fever. He had, after all, been doing just that for the last few months prior. At first, it had just been back pain, which was Ling figured was normal after sitting for hours in a throne or in a conference with ramrod straight posture. Then his abdomen and knees ached, and there were constant headaches, along with some loss of appetite. While these were harder to ignore, the fact that he was so close to getting all the votes he needed to change one of the oldest and most conservative laws of Xing, and the sight of his lovely husband in their shared bed at the end of every day helped him to push through the pain and nausea. That is, until he passed out from the exhaustion from both not eating enough and the fever. That was where Edward found him, and, as a result, found out that Ling had been hiding these symptoms for so long. Not only had Ed felt dread creeping and settling into his bones, but he also felt overwhelming guilt, because he should have noticed earlier, he should have spoken up when Ling hadn't finished his dinner, he should've-

 

"Come on, now," Ling pulled Edward's intertwined hand towards himself, urging Ed to stand up and join him on the bed. "The doctor said that, at this point, the virus isn't infectious. Come join me." 

 

Edward slowly stood up, then staggered onto the bed with Ling, hugging his too-hot, sweaty-borderline-sticky, lover around the middle. Ling also nestled further under the covers with Ed, kissing his husband's temple. 

 

+

 

"It sounds an awful lot like what mom had..." Al spoke hesitantly, his voice coming in tinny through the phone speaker. 

 

"I know," Edward sighed. "It's almost exactly the same. It could be the same disease, but even after all these years, there's still no known cure," he laughed bitterly.

"Well, it wasn't in my plans… But I  _ could _ come visit Xing to help you with your research," Al offered, hesitence no longer present in his voice. If it helped his brother, he would move heaven and earth, and there would be no stopping them. If they worked together, there's no way they couldn't find a cure for Ling's sickness. 

 

"That sounds great, Al. Thanks," Ed sighed, relieved and moved by the fact that his brother was so willing to help him. 

 

"I'll be there soon, brother."

 

"Alright. See you soon."

 

+

 

There  _ was _ a way they couldn't find a cure for Ling's sickness. That just so happened to be the way things worked out. After a few weeks of scouring every book in the royal library, the search for a cure became disheartening. That didn't mean either brother would give up, and the search dragged on. 

 

+

 

Edward jerked to a stop as he walked into what seemed to be a business meeting in the emperor's bedroom. There were some official looking men, and two doctors, all crowded around Ling, who laid in the bed, propped up by pillows. They all fell silent as Edward entered, before Ling seemed to dismiss them in Xingese. The men picked up all the papers and the lap tables they had been using to write on, quickly leaving the room in an organized manner. Ed watched as they left, sneaking glances at the official looking documents they carried. While the Xingese characters were difficult to make out, the bold characters at the top of one page were plenty easy for Ed to read and translate. 

 

"In Case of The Event of Our Emperor Ling Yao's death," is what they said, and Edward could feel his blood turn to ice as fear ran through his veins. Had they been making plans for Ling's death? 

 

"So… what was that all about?" Edward asked, keeping his voice light and full of curiosity, not sure what to do with this new information. 

 

"Oh, it was nothing, they were just working out some legal orders." Edward wanted to believe that what his husband was saying was true, but he couldn't, not with what he'd seen on those paper. He didn't point it out, opting instead to flop himself onto the bed, not bothering to get under the covers before latching onto Ling and peppering kisses under his jaw. Ling smiled, and brought his hand up to run it through Ed's hair. Normally, the both of them would be causing trouble in the palace at this time of day, but Ling had been feeling too weak to leave the bed. It seemed like he'd been feeling that more and more the past few days. 

  
  


When the same situation happened again the next day, Edward felt a sense of deja vu, followed by fear. Same doctors, same lawyers, same resigned look on Ling's face. 

 

"Jeez, them again? Just tell them to buzz off, if they're bothering you," Edward scoffed, delighted that his annoyance had gotten a small smile out of Ling. 

  
  


On the third day it happened, the lawyers all left, but the doctors remained. Edward sat at the edge of the bed, facing Ling, incapable of finding anything to say. Ling spoke.

 

"Everything has been settled," he stated, in a faraway voice, an even more farway and resigned smile on his face. 

 

"Everything? What d'you mean?" Edward asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. 

 

"Edward. Listen," Ling turned towards Edward, taking his right hand into his left, and leaning forward to gently kiss him on the lips. "Everything has been taken care of. You do not need to worry. I love you."

 

"I love you too," Ed responded, about to cup Ling's face with his hands before he was grabbed by a pair doctors, who seemed to be trying to usher him out. Edward stumbling, confused as to why they were trying to drag him out of there. "H-hey, what're you doing?!" He shouted, thrashing to get away from them. It worked, but they were on him again in an instant, speaking Xingese, before quickly changing to speak Amestrian. 

 

Maids rushed in as one of the doctors spoke. "It is disgraceful to watch the emperor die. You must leave, now, only doctors will be allowed in here." This only made Edward thrash more, which resulted in him accidentally clocking one of the maids in the face, and knocking one doctor to the ground, rushing over to the bed that held a strangely silent Ling, who watched the scene in front of him unfold. 

_ Ling wasn't dying, he wasn't, he couldn't- _

 

Just as Edward made it to the bed, to embrace Ling and to assure himself that he wasn't dying, not on Ed's watch, he felt a sharp stabbing sensation in his right thigh. He looked down to find a strange needle imbedded in his thigh, and before he can register the fact that they were sedating him, he went limp, the last thought on his mind was of Ling before he fell unconscious. 

 

+

 

When Edward awakens, in an empty bed, with no concept of what time it was, or how long he'd been asleep, he curses loudly. With a jolt, he remembers,  _ Ling _ , before trying to get out of bed. A maid, who had been waiting at his bedside for who knows how long, stopped him, as his limbs were still loose and hard to control from the sedative. 

 

"Where'd Ling?" He asks, his voice desperate.

 

The maid seemed to be holding back tears as she spoke with a thick accent. "The young emperor has passed away. There will be-"

 

Before she can finish her sentence, Edward's eye roll up into his head and he slumps forward as he passes out yet again, no sedation needed this time. Grief was enough to do the trick. 

 

+

 

The tomb was beautiful. Gorgeous, even, and if it hadn't held one of the few people Edward had cherished above all else in the world, Edward would have complimented the creator. The service ended long ago. Edward was the only one who remained, staring at the intricate tomb, viewing all the gifts people had left. 

 

_ Water, 35 liters. _

 

Very few people had been able to attend the service, and even fewer people spoke, to reminisce about Ling's life, or to talk about what a great guy he  _ was _ (Edward didn't think he'd  _ ever _ get used to saying that) and what a tragedy his death was. Edward couldn't remember, too busy being wrapped up in his own grief to remember who spoke, or who squeezed his hand when he had started crying again, or who it had been that had clapped him on the shoulder, referring to him as  _ Fullmetal,  _ which Edward didn't have enough energy to respond to. 

 

_ Carbon, 20 kilograms. _

 

"Humans are such stupid creatures." Edward's own voice surprised him, gravelly from crying so much. He brought his eyes up from the ground to meet the photo of Ling that had been placed in front of his tomb, one from his happier days, when he hadn't been burdened with the responsibility of ruling an entire country. A photo of the boy Edward had fallen in love with. Clearing his throat, Ed spoke again.

 

"Especially us alchemists. Though I'm not even sure I can call myself an alchemist anymore."

 

_ Ammonia, 4 liters. _

 

Edward's entire body trembled with the effort it took to keep him from bursting into tears. 

 

_ Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus, 800 grams.  _

 

"I learned my lesson long ago. I  _ should've _ learned my lesson long ago. So why..."

 

_ Trace amounts of 15 other elements.  _

 

"Why is it the only thing I can think about? Why are my fingers itching to draw that damned circle all over again?" Edward's voice bordered on hysterical, and tears were now flowing freely down his face. His legs gave out from under him. 

 

"Dammit!  _ Ling!"  _ Edward sobbed, clapping his hands together before placing them on the ground next to tomb, a familiar circle flashing in his memory. The circle that started his journey, the circle that had plagued his nightmares for years, the forbidden circle of human transmutation. 

 

Nothing happened. There was no crackle of a successful transmutation in the air, but Edward persisted. He clapped again, slamming his hands onto the ground so harshly that his whole body shook. He clapped again, again, again, each attempt as unsuccessful as the last, sobbing all the while.

 

Ling's voice rang through his memory;  _ "I wanted to grow old with you." _

 

"Stubborn, romantic,  _ fool!"  _ Edward shouted, punching the ground with his right fist. He repeated the motion again, feeling something crack, but barely registering the pain. The small jolt of pain he did feel, however, seemed to give his mind some clarity, so he moved to do it again before a familiar voice rang out. 

 

"Brother! Stop!" Al shouted as he ran up to Edward, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. Ed continued to sob, but he did stop punching the ground, instead crumpling onto his side and howling into the dirt of the ground, not caring about the state of the suit he was wearing.  

 

"Ed. Get up, you're getting all dirty," Alphonse spoke, the state of Ed's clothes really the last thing on his mind. He held out a hand for his brother to grab, to help himself up. With a quiet "upsie-daisie," Al successfully pulled his brother up from off the ground, gently placing his arm 

around Ed's shoulders to guide and support him. 

 

"C'mon, let's go home. It's freezing out here."

 

Edward didn't bother to mention how he could never return home. The home he had found after his first one burned down had died, and was now buried 6 feet under. Not to be returned to until they could meet again, on the other side of the gate. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey uh, first of all, yikes. constructive criticism is appreciated, but dont be afraid to comment anything else!!!! follow me on twitter im kinda funny sometimes: @alchemizedangel


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